


Bound Letters

by ceruleyana



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Epistolary, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not A Fix-It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:55:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 13,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25105801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceruleyana/pseuds/ceruleyana
Summary: The following are excerpts of a collection of letters written by Bilbo Baggins, Burglar of King Thorin's Company, addressed to Thorin II, son of Thrain, King Under the Mountain and vice versa. These letters, though addressed to one another, were not intended to be seen by the said recipient. These letters are the only remaining proof of the Burglar and the King's regard for one another, and are very much valued by the scholars of Erebor.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield
Comments: 10
Kudos: 56





	1. Bilbo - Back in the Shire

**Author's Note:**

> Here's me trying a multi-chapter fic! Hope you all like it!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo reaches the Shire, finding his home ransacked.

Thorin,

You will never read this because this letter will never leave this smial. I find that, although you may think me a coward for saying so, writing to you and being free to say what I want to with no repercussions is a comforting thought. You may be right that I am a coward. After all, I left while you were still unconscious, and the Company too busy with the aftermath of the battle to notice. Part of me still regrets leaving the Company without saying goodbye, and yet a larger part of me is glad to have left it all behind me, if you would forgive me saying. It's just that so much has happened that honestly, the dragon was a bit underwhelming in retrospect. I've had plenty of time to think on the way back, and it still overwhelms me when I dwell on it for too long.

I suppose you might be wondering, or you would, if you ever read this which you won't, why would I write to you and not send it? For one, I do not know how this letter would survive the trip. I don't suppose there are dwarves in charge of post. From what I remember of your stories, that would be ravens, I suppose, and there are none here in the Shire, therefore, the point is moot. Another thing, I don't think I could send you a letter, not just physically, but also emotionally. I suppose that's why I left so suddenly. I couldn't face the Company, let alone you. I wish I could say it is no fault of yours, but I can't in good conscience. I don't think I'll ever forget the feel of your hands on my neck as you shoved me on the ramparts nor the look in your eyes. I know that in Ravenhill, I had said that I have forgiven you, and maybe it is partly true, but when I close my eyes, I can hear your voice and that of the dragon, as though one and the same. It haunts me to this very day, here in the Shire half a world away. I do know that you did not mean both your words and actions, but it is an irrational thing sometimes, the mind, and I fear I could not simply ignore it if I remained in Erebor. I find myself unready to face you both on paper and in person, and I hope that you can find it in you to forgive this daft hobbit for that.

But enough of dreary things. You will not believe the sight that I had to behold once I got to the Shire. My home, ransacked! My fellow hobbits, making off with my furniture! The nerve of them! It would seem that I had a bit of an infestation in my own home, though not as fearsome as a dragon. Oh, you'd be happy to know, or maybe not, I suppose, that that contract of mine helped chased those vultures away. Asking me to prove my identity, indeed! I still can't believe that piece of parchment survived all we had been through.

You should have seen the look on Lobelia's face when I got back. It was as though she were offended that I was still alive. The nerve of her to make off with the silverware, honestly. That look on her face when I snatched my silverware from her hands reminded me of the look on Smaug's face when you called him... what was it... slow and fat? I was sure that we would all perish by then, yet the look of offense on Smaug's face is something that stuck with me at that moment.

Now, I've been keeping myself busy by getting all my furniture back. I actually had to buy some of them back. I took the gold on the troll hoard, by the way, and used that. Because of that, hobbits from the four Farthings are all whispering about me filling my smial with piles of gold. I'm sure that will do wonders with my already tattered reputation, but I cannot find it in myself to care. Funny, only a little more than a year ago, I would tell you that my reputation is the most valuable thing to me. I suppose I've changed tremendously over that time.

Despite leaving so suddenly, I do hope that you are in good health, Thorin. You, and Fili and Kili too as they were as awake as you were upon my leaving. As well as you all can be at this time. I hope that you have woken from your slumber, and are currently ruling the kingdom that is so dear to your heart.

  
Yours,

Bilbo Baggins


	2. Thorin - Awake in Erebor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin is no longer unconscious, only to find that Bilbo is no longer there.

Master Baggins, 

I fully understand that you would take back your acceptance of my apology in Ravenhill. What I have done to you is nigh unforgivable. I have tarnished your honor as I did mine by not acting on my word to those of Laketown, and I have also threatened your life. Such actions do not befit forgiveness. Though you may not forgive me, rest assured that I still think fondly of you despite all that has happened between us. 

Whether you would receive this letter with an open heart or not, I do not know, but I feel the need to impart to you news of my nephews, for they were your companions. Both Fili and Kili are in good condition and are healing nicely. Fili will always bear a slight limp, and Kili will have a twinge of pain from his wounds that will follow him to, hopefully, old age, yet they both remain in high spirits. Azog the Defiler will not so easily rid the world of Durin's line, and for that I am eternally grateful. 

They were both saddened to hear of the news that you have left so suddenly, but I assured them that any ill will that you bear is not directed at them but at myself. They would deny this, of course, yet I feel it is so. 

Negotiations between the three kingdoms have gone underway. Balin and Dain have been doing most of the legwork, quite literally, due to me still being bound to my bed. It seems having a sharp weapon stab you in the chest would do that to you, and so I shall remain in my sick bed for some time. Both Bard and Thranduil are still suspicious of my motives, though I cannot blame them for it. Maybe Thranduil, a little. I would have you know that I have given Bard a sizable share of the treasure, enough to rebuild Dale as I promised. I also gave Thranduil his precious jewels, though part of me is glad to not see the satisfaction on his face upon receiving it, stuck in my bed as I am. The thought of your face upon discovering that I am not as stubborn as you so loved to claim comforts me. The Arkenstone has been returned to dwarven hands in the end of this exchange, and yet I could barely look at it without feeling shame running through my body. 

Some of the Company had worried about your sudden disappearance. Some had even thought you perished during the battle, and begun to search for you in the pile of the dead. They would have continued to think of you gone if it were not for Bard informing them that you had departed for the Shire with Gandalf and Beorn. I do not tell you this to cast any blame on you, only that the Company was sad to find that you had gone without telling any of them. They do wish you well despite your sudden leaving, and hope that you still are fond of them as they are of you. 

I hope your acorn survived the battle and the journey back to the Shire. It is such a small thing, yet it was a light that pierced through the fog of my dragonsickness, and I could not help but hope that it finds its home in your Shire. Despite the many trials that that acorn has gone through, may it grow into a mighty oak and be your steadfast companion in your home. 

As I write this, I find my strength and courage fading. Would you even read this after seeing my name on this piece of parchment? Have you turned your back on us completely? Will we not see our burglar again? Again, I do not blame you if you would rather leave this bitter quest behind you. I just wish you had told me, or any of us, for that matter. 

Though, I suppose, for all the times you have saved us throughout the quest, you do not really owe us anything. Not even an explanation. It does not stop me from desiring one, though I suppose that is a flaw within my line - we seem to always want too much. 

Would it be too much to hope that you would one day feel the pull of the East? That you would desire to come back to Erebor someday? That I may see you once again?

As I read through this, I find that my courage has left me completely. I cannot send you this. I am not sure that I could send you any letter at all. It all feels too big to talk about in a letter, and to not mention it at all seems just as wrong. No, I will not send this to you, Master Burglar, though I hope you will not mind if I continue to address you as it seems that anything about you brings me a bit of hope. 

I know that I had said that this letter will not reach your hands, but I cannot help but wish you good health, and all the luck in the world in all your endeavors. I hope that you had finally got to sit in your armchair and read your books once you reached your smial for as I have reclaimed my home, you should get to enjoy yours as well. 

Part of me also wishes that you could find it in your heart to forgive me once again. Upon your leaving, Bard had mentioned that you had tried to leave the mithril shirt behind, but kept it when Gandalf explained that it would be a great insult to do so. From that, I can see that you are not too terribly mad at me, at least not enough to leave the mithril, and I still hope that all the bitterness between us will be washed away someday. 

Yours, 

  
Thorin, son of Thrain 


	3. Bilbo - Dwarves in the Shire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few seasons after Bilbo got back, he notices a group of dwarves traveling East.

Thorin,

A year has passed since my return to the Shire, yet it feels as though it was decades away and at the same time as though I had just stepped off the road and into my smial, sword in hand.

You would think my fellow hobbits would have found something new to talk about these days, and yet it is not so. Perhaps leaving the Shire to travel a large distance and face a dragon was too much for the four Farthings to handle, yet I cannot bring myself to regret being part of your impossible quest.

I find myself missing the road. You would laugh, I know upon hearing me say this, but it's true. For all that I complained in our journey about missing the comforts of home, I find that I miss the thrill of not knowing what comes next. Despite missing my smial, I find that I do not enjoy the little things as much. Again, you would laugh, but during the first few weeks upon being back, I actually slept on the floor, the bed feeling too soft for my liking. The Shire seems so small after our adventure, for all that I love my home. The rolling hills and the green pastures never fail to bring a smile to my face, yet it feels as though something is missing.

I think what I miss the most about our travels was the companionship and camaraderie. I catch myself missing the snores of the Company so much that I lay awake at night trying to remember what it sounded like. Bag-End seems too quiet these days, and empty too. I've always thought that my smial was too large for one hobbit, and no doubt you'd hear Lobelia say the same, but I feel the void now more than ever. It sounds pathetic, coming from a cowardly hobbit who left without saying goodbye, but I do miss the Company.

I tried socializing with other hobbits - well, those that didn't come for my furniture which, granted, isn't a whole lot - yet I am met with suspicion. Even the Tooks are a bit wary of me, despite taking part in their own adventures. I suppose none of them partook in an adventure as big as mine. Oh, things have gotten better at that end, certainly, and I have gathered what remains of my reputation and managed to make something halfway decent with it, yet the company of hobbits pales in comparison to the company of those you have faced many trials with.

I find myself missing you most of all, I fear. Your lingering touches, your soft gazes, and most of all, your dazzling smile. Oh, your smile. It is enough to feed this hobbit for years and years. I tried putting you on paper, a portrait for my own keeping, yet I struggle to get the details right. It is not for lack of remembering for I feel that I could never forget your face, not even when my mind deteriorates with age. You seem too large to be able to be put in paper. My mediocre skills cannot capture the nuances of your face - the subtle furrow of your brow, the crows feet that dwell by your eyes, the way your lips would twitch when you struggled to keep a laugh down. I suppose that I will have to rely on my memory alone, and hope that it will continue to serve me well.

But enough of me fawning over you. I shall go back to my previous thought. The hobbits of the Shire have been mostly wary of me, except for Drogo Baggins. I imagine that you remember me talking about the Baggins family. I do say this with the utmost respect for my family name, but the Bagginses are the most vocal in their distaste for adventures. I do hope that by saying that, you would understand why I was so insistent on not going with you lot at first. It came as a surprise to see young Drogo come to my defense, though at the thought of my father who married the most adventurous of Tooks, I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised. He has become my staunch supporter, and he has helped me in reviving my standing in the Shire. We have become fast friends, and I asked him why he was so insistent on helping me, a distant relative. He said, and would you believe it, that he admired me for being brave enough to go against tradition of the Bagginses. I could not help but scoff at this, for brave is the last thing to describe me.

And so, life goes on in the Shire, and all is right except it's not. I still do not get enough sleep for my dreams are filled with orcs and fire. They are filled with thoughts of dragonsickness as well as of you dying, both which frighten me more than any monstrous orc. I feel the absence of my sword when I walk to the market, and I find myself missing the weight of it. I look at myself in a mirror and wonder who stands opposite me because I do not recognize the hobbit that does. I am not sure whether that is a good thing or not, but Gandalf was right. I am not the same hobbit as I once was. All I can hope is that I can take the changes that I now possess and put it to good use here.

I should tell you about the acorn that I carried with me. I have found a place to plant it, a secluded area near the Brandywine river. I could already see it sprout, which is remarkable since I've only planted it recently. I suppose it carried some of the magic of Beorn's garden. I had worried that it would not grow at all, yet there is life still in that worn acorn, and I am glad for it. I look forward to see it grow into a mighty oak, and I feel that whenever I would sit under its shade, I would think of you - you and your smile which continues to haunt me, and the comfort that comes with your company. An oak tree seems a poor substitute for your company yet I must remain content with that. Perhaps it would lend me its strength and I would leave this place and go to you, yet it is still a small sprout for now - a life so fragile that borrowing its strength would feel like robbing it of its survival.

I have done so much writing, yet I still haven't mentioned the true reason for writing this letter to you, never mind that you'll never read it. There are dwarves in the Shire these past few days. Your kin, no doubt, from the Blue Mountains heading to Erebor. Yet there was a knock on my door, and a cheery and familiar voice calling my name. From the sounds of it, Bombur, Gloin, and, dear Yavanna, Kili were at my doorstep, looking for me. I wish I could tell you that I bravely set aside my fears and welcomed them into my home. I wish I could tell you that I took one look at Kili and, rejoicing at the sight of him healthy and hale, embraced him tightly. I wish I could tell you that we exchanged stories of the year that had passed us all, yet it is not so. I am shamed to tell you that I hid from them, still not ready to face them even though a year had already passed. I hid, clutching the ring that had accompanied me in our travels, and closed my eyes. Somehow, despite my shameful actions, I find that saying that I cried upon hearing their voices not to be an embarrassment, for I do miss them dearly. I just wish I had the strength to open my door for them.

Once again, I hope you would forgive this hobbit his failings. I hope that you will hold on to our words in Ravenhill despite my actions, and trust that I still hold you in high esteem. I know I have given you little reason to believe it, but a part of me can't help but hope. I do hope that Erebor is thriving upon your watch, and from the way the dwarves of the Blue Mountains are talking, it would seem that Erebor is indeed in good hands.

Lastly, I hope that I will get the courage to face you once again with no shadow of dragonsickness and past betrayals.

Yours,

Bilbo Baggins


	4. Thorin - Exodus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dwarves of Erebor have returned, yet Thorin feels... not as happy as he should be.

Master Burglar,

Seasons have passed since your departure, and in all honesty, all of us in the Company feel the void left by our fourteenth member. I wonder what you are doing at this very moment. Hopefully, whatever you may be doing, you are doing so with joy in your heart. The thought of it soothes the ache left by your leaving. I am sure the others feel the same.

I hope you have managed to settle comfortably in your old life, though I do understand if you feel any difficulty doing so. I, myself, find it difficult to let my guard down in my own kingdom as I am too used to the hardships of life on the road. It is a new and delicate thing, being king of this newly resettled Erebor, and I hope to not let my people down as I have let you down. You would, if you still think of me kindly, probably tell me to stop brooding and stop blaming myself, yet I cannot seem to stop. The guilt from what I have done to you haunts me as much as the thought of succumbing to dragonsickness once again. I think it would please you to know that the thought of the former prevents the latter from happening, I think. I still feel the pull of the gold at times, though not as strong as before, but you are among the cacophony of voices that grounds me. Your presence is still felt within these halls, though it is no substitute for the real thing.

You have probably noticed the many dwarves of the Blue Mountains pass by the outskirts of the Shire. I am proud to say that we have rehabilitated Erebor enough to house and provide for the dwarves that, and I am glad to write this down, used to live in the Blue Mountains. These dwarves, some who still remember the splendor of Erebor and some who were born away from it, will get to thrive in the Lonely Mountain, and I feel I have achieved something larger than me. As I write this, these dwarves have reached the front gates and are settling in, and I cannot help but shed tears of joy and pride. I wish you could see it, Bilbo. The dwarves of Erebor, returned - it is a sight to behold, and it warms my old and worn heart.

Erebor is not the only kingdom thriving in the East. Though a harsh winter had passed in the aftermath of the battle, Dain's soldiers aided in the restoration of Dale, at least enough to make the city liveable. The Mirkwood or Greenwood as they prefer to be called though the day I will say it out loud is when they cure that accursed forest, provided both Dale and Erebor food as part of our trade. It is said that the different races of Middle Earth cannot agree on anything at all, yet we seemed to have proved them wrong. When spring came, it was nothing short of a blessing as there was much to be done in restoring both kingdoms which the dreadful climate delayed. Dale is now starting to resemble the city of old though it still has a long ways to go. The same could be said of both kingdoms, yet we are rich in gold, food, and camaraderie, albeit begrudgingly so.

Bard and I are in better terms, which should please you as well. I remember that you liked the man well enough. He is still of grim countenance, yet he smiles more these days. I suppose we are alike in taking pride in seeing our people prosper. Thranduil... well, we argue less, if something has to be said. It is over mundane parts of ruling, though the most that can be said is that there are no longer threats of war between the two of us. It will take more than a great battle to erase my distrust and distaste for elves, especially Thranduil, and I have no doubt he feels the same way about me. That is a long and arduous road to take for the both of us. Bard seems to get some amusement from our arguments, and I suppose that is a sign that things are going as well as they can.

The arrival of my people are a sight to behold, yet none compare to the sight of my sister, Dis, leading them. I have mentioned her to you during our travels, and you have no doubt heard Dwalin threaten the boys with her name sometime in the journey. She is a fearsome dam, Dis. Even I hesitate around her sometimes, despite being older than her. The trials that our people have faced have hardened her almost as much as they did me, yet she still possesses a hope within her that drives me forward. I think I had the amount of faith that I had towards our quest upon her urging. She had trusted me enough with her dear children, her most precious treasures, and I cannot thank her enough for it. Of course, her faith in me did not save me from the verbal lashing that I received upon her arrival. I suppose I should be thankful that she yelled at me in closed doors. There were tears during our reunion, both of us too emotional to hold them back, and I feel blessed by Mahal to have a sister such as her. You would have liked her, I think. I believe you would have gotten along well had you met.

I suppose I should get to the root of the matter - why I am writing this letter in the first place. Kili, Bombur, and Gloin had journeyed more than halfway towards the Blue Mountains to meet their families. While doing so, they thought it a good idea to visit the Shire - to visit you and to see how you are faring. When they had gotten to your home, they knocked and knocked on your door only to be met with silence. They asked for you amongst your neighbors, yet they claimed that you have not left your smial the whole day. A hobbit lass named Lobelia, which oddly enough, rings a bell, marched towards them and said that they had no business in the Shire, and that you don't want to see any dwarves. Kili begun to argue with the lass until both Gloin and Bombur had to hold him back. It was a distasteful turn of events, and the three of them decided to leave your Shire.

What I am asking of you is an explanation. What have they done to deserve your ire? Each and every one in the Company cares for you, yet you would shun them from your home. Your quarrel is with me, Master Baggins, not them. Poor Kili was thrilled to have the chance to visit you, as were Bombur and Gloin, and yet you refused to answer their call. You must not punish them for my mistakes. If you are angry, direct your anger at the one who caused it, and spare those who have done nothing to you. I did not think you could be so petty. Cut off what is left of my beard if you must, but-

[The original letter was unfinished and crumpled, and the last paragraph was hastily crossed out.]


	5. Bilbo - Young Frodo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's bad news in the Shire, and Bilbo feels lost.

Dear Thorin,

It has been a long while since I've done this - writing a letter that will remain unsent, I mean. I didn't think this would become a habit of mine, but here I am, quill in hand with you in mind.

It has been difficult. Thirty years of trying to grab a semblance of normalcy, and I feel the rug swept off my feet so suddenly, so to speak. The only comfort that I have is all the letters that I get from the Company, which I am glad that I accepted all those years ago. I have to tell you though, they were a bit of a bother when they first came around, but I suppose there was a possibility that I would've just left those letters unopened. I'm guessing that's why the ravens were made to be as inconvenient as possible, and despite it being frustrating, I am glad that your ravens were as ridiculously confusticating as you dwarves.

Ravens flocked around Bag-End, a few seasons after that incident with Kili, Bombur, and Gloin. The appearance of dwarves on my doorstep was enough to set the Shire ablaze with gossip, yet it was not enough. All of a sudden, ravens bringing with them letters from the Company asking how I fare and why I left so suddenly. It seems my reputation can't catch a break as all the effort that Drogo has put into it has been all for nothing. Don't misunderstand, I don't blame the Company nor your ravens. I just felt bad for poor Drogo who risked his own reputation defending me. Since that day, I got stuck being Mad Baggins. It doesn't bother me as much as it should. I've faced orcs and a dragon. I think I can handle a rude nickname.

It got to a point where I could no longer ignore all the cawing and croaking of your ravens, and so I grabbed their letters, expecting them to leave soon after. Of course, I was wrong - they were expecting a response and would not leave without one. I sat down in my study one night and read all those letters, and the regret in my heart grew the more missives I read. I really should've answered that door, never mind how ready I was to receive them. They didn't deserve me ignoring their yells. And so, I wrote to each and every one of them. I apologized, but I still couldn't say why I left, because I, myself, don't exactly know why. All I know is that I was glad to get away from Erebor, that the sight of it made me uneasy, but I couldn't tell any of them that. I know they would take offense because of their love for Erebor. And there begins my continued correspondence with the Company.

Your letters, as you know, came much later - only quite recently, in fact - but I dreaded the day that they would come. I knew they would. Everyone in the Company kept saying that you would write soon, and that I should expect it. It's not that I don't want to hear from you, I do. I just - I don't know how to explain it. I don't think I have the words, but I will try, and maybe someday, I can actually tell you.

I still dream of that day. Thirty and some years and it still lives in the corner of my brain, clear as day. I do have to admit, part of me was angry and hurt. Even though I knew it was a possibility that you would be furious, I didn't think you would actually try to kill me. I know I wasn't the only one hurt that day. I'm not trying to excuse my actions, and yet, I suppose what I'm trying to say is that I fully believed in you. I trusted you enough to not be scared of you and the consequences that may befall me upon taking the Arkenstone. Perhaps that was naive of me, that you were beyond harming me and that I came back after doing a grave act of betrayal. The anger that I felt has faded in time, of course. I could never hold your actions against you because you were not in control, and I understand that completely. You were dreadfully sick, and that was why I felt the need to keep the Arkenstone from you in the first place. The anger was quick to fade, but the hurt hasn't. It remains as fresh as that day at the gates of Erebor. Perhaps my head had lived in fairytales far too long before I met you that I believed that lo-

Perhaps I should stop there before I write something that I regret. Even though you won't read this, I have no intention to parade my feelings anywhere anytime soon, not even in this piece of parchment that will never see the light of day. My emotions are high right now, after everything that's happened. I'll write about it later, but I must continue where I left off before I got emotional.

Your letters, all of them for I kept them by my bedside and read them time and time again, are formal and stilted. The letters from a king of a distant kingdom rather than that of a friend, but I suppose I deserved that. Honestly, I'm surprised you bothered to write at all, though I have a suspicion that it's the Company that's urging you to write to me. I told you you don't have to feel obliged to write, but your letters kept on coming. I must admit I let out a sigh of relief when I received your letter after me telling you so. Though we keep a regular correspondence, both your letters and mine don't go beyond pleasantries. A part of me grieves for our fragmented friendship, while the rest is just relieved to have a connection to you, no matter how distant.

Though there is a part of me that still aches for what had happened between us, I do long to see you all once again. It seems letters aren't enough for me. Though they come quite frequently, the feel of paper doesn't quite compare to the friendly touches and smiles that come with being with you all. I wish I could be there to see Erebor thrive under your rule. I wish I could eat and sing songs with you all while complaining about everyone's bad table manners. I wish I could meet Gloin's son who he writes about in almost every letter. I wish I could formally meet Tauriel who Kili is utterly enamored by. I wish I could see Bofur and Bifur's shop get flocked by the many dwarflings that now reside in your kingdom. I miss the stories and the bickering of the Company. I miss all of you, but especially you, Thorin. My heart seems to long for the East the longer I am away from it, and if things were different, I would've already packed my things and begin the journey there, if you would all have me. Yet things aren't as simple as they were thirty years ago. I cannot run away from the Shire at this time nor anytime soon.

My thoughts are everywhere at once, which I probably why I decided to write this letter. While the hurt still lingers, writing to the thought of you still brings me to a sense of calm. I manage to push away all the pain and focus on the dear moments of our companionship, scarce and brief as they were. I needed the calm for things have completely upended in my life in the Shire. A tragic turn of events has happened, and I find myself unable to seek comfort in anyone - never mind to provide comfort to the one who dearly needs it.

There was a boating accident at the Brandywine River. As you observed in the barrel incident, hobbits are not exactly excellent swimmers. Poor Drogo and his wife, Primula, had not survived. My heart breaks for them as no hobbit deserves to die so young. Very few do.

I still remember attending their wedding. It was a wonderful affair, full of cheer and delicious food. I even helped Drogo picked flowers for Primula's flower crown. We hobbits exchange flower crowns, you see, and the flowers used have different meanings. I gave Drogo a bunch of forget-me-nots from my garden. I have to confess that I chose them because they reminded me of the color of your eyes.

To think that they perished about a little more than a decade after their wedding. It is an awful thing, how life is complicated and unjust at times. My heart also breaks for their son, Frodo, who has to live the life of an orphan. He is a bright young boy. Curious and full of the spirit of youth, though that has faded considerably because of what happened. He is currently living with the Brandybuck clan, and I check on him from time to time.

Whenever I am with him, words seem to lose all meaning. When I look at his eyes, there lies a grief that also reminded me of you. It seems you are constantly in my mind, as many things lead me to thinking of you, but there it is. I feel an odd connection to the boy, and part of me wants to, dare I say, take him into my care. I am aware enough to know that I am a bachelor and am ill-prepared to take care of a grieving faunt, so adopting him would be not the wisest idea. Perhaps I shall remain a doting uncle, guiding him as he grows into an esteemed gentlehobbit. I think I shall make him my heir, for I am far too old and uninterested in getting married to anyone in the Shire. I'm sure Drogo would like that.

I wish I could ask you advice on how to handle children. From traveling with them, I can see Fili and Kili grew into quite respectable dwarves under your and your sister's care despite their terrible manners. I saw how you cared for them throughout the quest without coddling them, and I must say I admire you from your parenting skills alone. I wish I am as capable, but I simply don't have the patience for faunts beyond entertaining them with stories of places that are far away.

But I'm not in the place to ask you for parenting advice, and I am hesitant to break the dam that has formed between our friendship.

I've recently sent Bombur some Shire recipes. I do hope that everyone in the Company has had the taste of at least one dish. You lot never did give me a chance to cook for you, preferring to ransack my pantry instead. It warms my heart to know that part of the Shire has reached Erebor, even if it isn't me.

Still yours,

Bilbo Baggins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forget-me-nots symbolize true love and remembrance.


	6. Thorin - A Silver Hobbit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin worries for Erebor, amongst other things.

Master Baggins,

Perhaps this is the first letter that I will send you that will go beyond pleasantries. Perhaps I will finally have the courage to ask you if you still bear ill will towards me, though the answer may frighten me more than an army of orcs. No, I must find the strength to do this. I have faced many foes, but your possible disdain towards me is something that I may not be able to bear.

I can still hardly believe that we have kept correspondence, no matter how superficial it is right now. I only had the courage to do so upon the urging of the Company and my sister, yet I could not bare my heart to you, Master Baggins, so I contented myself with vague platitudes and well-wishes. It seems too big a thing to discuss on paper, the events before the battle. I wish this is something we could discuss in person, and I would journey all the way to the Shire if I could, just to mend what had broken between us. Alas, I cannot at this time, as there are threats that are looming upon Erebor, and I cannot put my selfish desires for redemption over the safety of my people.

There are two areas of concern upon Erebor - Mordor and Khazad Dum. We have received reports from Gondor speaking of an emerging danger associated with orcs in the area. The situation is being handled as far as we have been informed, yet it is still something to take note of.

The bigger concern is Khazad-dum, or Moria as others would call it. Balin led the expedition to it, as we in the council have surmised it safe to reclaim. Reclaiming Erebor is already a victory to all dwarves, yet reclaiming Khazad-dum would be the greatest triumph we would have in the Third Age. It is the dwarven city founded by Durin himself, and has innumerable veins of the most precious metal in Middle Earth, mithril. By mithril, I do mean the same material that makes the armor that I gave you all these years ago. Beyond the value of mithril is the value of reclaiming one of the greatest cities in Middle Earth. It is a task I can only entrust to Balin, my dear friend and trusted adviser. Ori and Oin, both of whom I am sure told you, joined Balin in this quest, which would have seemed impossible before, and yet is currently within reach.

There have been skirmishes around the area with wandering orcs and goblins, yet none have been able to contend with the might of Balin's party. According to Ori, everything is going smoothly, and they should be ready to start mining the mithril by the next season.

It does my heart well, Bilbo, to see my people climb out of the rut that has confined us for so long. The world has always been against us, and the odds never in our favor, yet it would seem that that has changed. It seems Mahal is truly watching over us.

I still worry about them, however. Fate usually has a way of dealing us a losing hand, and part of me waits for something to go terribly wrong. I know I must not think that, but I cannot avoid doing so sometimes. I have never been the most optimistic of dwarves.

I had heard from the others about your new ward, Frodo. I am sure you would raise a truly remarkable hobbit who has both your wit and bravery. I can only wish you luck from my halls that you handle it with grace that I know you possess.

I wish we could go back to times when we could trade stories - you with your Frodo and me with Fili and Kili. You should see them, Bilbo. They are far from the youth that you met though they still have some of that recklessness within them. It would seem that that is a trait that will follow them both into old age. They have come into their own, bearing their responsibilities with dignity and grace. Fili is an excellent mediator, cutting through the many arguments in the council with precision and efficiency. Kili, on the other hand, is a natural diplomat, who can easily charm anyone who stands before him. They make me a proud uncle and king, and I hope you get to feel the same pride in your Frodo for there is nothing quite like this feeling.

Speaking of Kili, I am sure he has told you about his elf, Tauriel. I am sure that were you here, you would scold me for my initial distrust at her being part of Thranduil's guard. I would have remained firm on the matter were it not for the Company vouching for her and even Thranduil, though he looked like he was in pain while doing it. She had saved my nephew's life more than once and defied Thranduil's orders out of love, and who am I to deny them their affections for one another? As Kili had told me, I would have been a hypocrite had I stood between him, seeing how I felt for you.

Perhaps I have said too much. Too much that should be said in person. Maybe I should not send this one either, for I fear I have revealed myself to you so suddenly. Yet you must know it is true that my affections for you run deeper that friendship. Kili was right that I would have been a hypocrite. I would have to be blind to not see the similarities. Send this to you or not, I cannot stop telling you how I feel.

There is a statue of you here in Erebor. I had forged it myself as soon as I can stand for more than a few minutes. I did not want for there to be any misremembrance of your features for it may be the only semblance of your person that I could lay my eyes on. I had forged it with silver for I remember that night, at the secret door. We had all lost hope, but you remained, never losing faith. You found the door, and I heard your yells and hurried back up the steps. There I saw you, by the door, bathed in the moonlight of Durin's Day. You were so beautiful, and that image of you has always stayed with me.

I go to it sometimes when I am in need of reflection. Seeing your face puts me at peace, yet I find myself sometimes reaching for its hand and the feeling is cold unlike that of yours, smooth for lack of hardship - reminding me of how different we truly are. Yet in all of our differences, you understood my deep love for my home, and aided us in taking it back, not caring for any reward given for your troubles.

You would not like the idea of a statue of yourself, I know, but I needed something of you, and it was the closest thing. Not to mention you are something of a hero here in Erebor. Songs are sung in your name as you so rightly deserve.

You were worth more than all the treasure of Erebor, and I was too blinded by my sickness to notice. How I wish I could turn back time and impart to my foolish younger self the wisdom that I have now, but no. We can all only move forward. I can only hope that we will once again walk the same path together.

  
Always yours,

Thorin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo's silver statue is a recurring thing in my works. This actually got written before "Five Times Thorin "Flirted" with Bilbo and One Time He Actually Tried", and I loved the idea too much to use it just once. Though here, it is the same size as Bilbo, because Thorin wanted to make a depiction of Bilbo that was true to life to fill the void left by him.


	7. Bilbo - Birthdays and Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo is in Bree, and on his way to Erebor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost halfway there! Still a long way to go!

My dear Thorin, 

I pen this letter as practice for our eventual reunion. I find myself still unprepared for it, yet I have already left the Shire in an uproar at my disappearance, and to go back would be an utter disaster. For me, at least. I shall try to compose my thoughts here, still a world away from you, so that when we meet again, it is with a ready heart and a verbose tongue. 

Frodo had just turned 33, just of age for us hobbits. He has grown into a fine young hobbit, just the right amount of respectable with a bit of a spirit of adventure in him. Sometimes, I wonder if I had done right by him - whether his parents would approve of how I raised him, but I see him smile at me and all those worries fade away. It does not compare to a fire-breathing dragon nor armies of orcs, yet I find that raising Frodo was a fine adventure indeed. An adventure that had concluded quite happily with great help from the Company. I will be forever grateful for all the guidance that I have gotten from you all, some of it a bit misguided as it was. I am proud to leave Bag-End behind to such an outstanding hobbit. 

I just celebrated my 111th birthday about a week ago. I can hardly believe it has been fifty years since I had first seen the peak of the Lonely Mountain, yet I find that my memory has not failed me despite the time. I can still remember how the clouds parted while we were on Bard's barge, the mountain coming to full view. It was so close at that point, I could scarcely believe it. 

I may have done something rather foolish. Do you remember my old ring, the one that turned me invisible? I may have used it in the middle of a grand speech with the whole Shire watching. It was all in good fun, not that any of them will think that. Still, it was all harmless, aside from slightly hurt feelings, yet I could not find myself feeling remorseful. Perhaps old age has turned me into a crotchety old bag despite my looks, but there it is. 

The ring... I had let it go, you see. I had left it to young Frodo, with the rest of my possessions. It is frightening, to realize that such a small thing had such a tight hold on you. Perhaps Gandalf was right, and that ring is no good, yet I find myself thinking of the times when it had saved my life. How could something that has saved me be evil? I do not understand the workings of magic nor should I try to. I shall content myself with the knowledge that it is safe in Frodo's hands. 

But I still do not understand why it was so hard to let go. It's a trinket, a small piece of jewelry that saved me in a pinch. As Gandalf asked me to leave it behind, I felt such strong emotions - anger, fear, mistrust. I wonder whether these were the emotions that consumed you back then. I think I understand why, now more than ever, you did what you did all those years ago. It was overwhelming, and I had felt lost, with only the whispers of that ring for company. Did the gold whisper to you as well? 

I let it go, and I found that it was the hardest thing that I've ever done. Harder than walking out of my door, and harder than coming back. It felt so final when I did it. I must confess that the fact that I was able to do it at all was because of you and what happened between us. I remember feeling so wretched after you had placed the Arkenstone over my life, and I can't imagine what you must have felt when you had come to your senses. I couldn't let myself be that, you see. I know what it was like from the outside, and I had seen what that ring can reduce a person to. I refuse to become that. I won't, because I'm aware of how much it hurts for everyone else, and I didn't want to do that to anyone. Not to Frodo, not to Gandalf, and not to you. 

Leaving behind the ring was a relief, like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders, and I feel free once again. Though there are wrinkles on my face that weren't there before, I feel younger. Perhaps this is where I got my newfound courage, seizing the chance to travel once more to Erebor. 

I have left the Shire for good, you see, and I had hoped... wished to stay in Erebor for the remainder of my life, if you would allow it. Perhaps it is foolish of me, to travel all the way to Erebor with the intention of staying without informing any of you. Maybe I am once again taking a coward's way out, traveling in secret and where sending me off would be seen as cruel. Or maybe it is my old soul seeking one great adventure with an uncertain end, though the stakes are significantly smaller. 

I suppose this is the part where I lay out how I feel, for to do otherwise will have rendered this whole letter useless. 

Thorin, I have been a fool. A selfish old fool who only thought of his own wretched feelings and none of yours, angry at you as I was. I don't hold any of it against you, none of it, for what could you do against your own mind which betrayed you? And the admirable dwarf that you are, you managed to overcome it and come back to your own. How could I begrudge you your actions when I myself had almost succumbed to the same fate? 

I had been angry at you, yes. Hurt, incredibly. In fact, despite all that I know, it still hurts because my heart is just as big a fool as I am. Even with all that, I think, fifty years after, I find myself ready to forgive. I, in turn, do not expect forgiveness from you for leaving. It is my biggest regret to this day, and there are times when I would wish I could turn back time. That I could go back and give my former self a bit of courage, a bit of steadiness so as not to leave. We cannot live in regret, however, and all we can do is mend what was left behind. 

I hope you will let me mend what has been broken between us. 

I had thought about it again and again for the past few decades. Why was it so hard for me to forgive? What stopped me from doing so especially when I could see that you truly regretted it? How hard could it be to forgive a friend his misdeeds? The longer I thought on it, the longer I dwelled on the word, friend. 

Were we? Friends? Certainly, at some point after the Carrock we were, but that wasn't all we were, now that I look back. Did you feel it too? The pull? The gravity that held us together until the sickness tore us apart? Maybe I am just reading too much into things. Maybe you didn't feel the same way, yet I cannot deny that I did. I didn't realize it at the time, but I know now that I did. I had loved you, Thorin Oakenshield, and even now, fifty years later in a dilapidated inn at Bree, I still do. 

The fact that I loved you made your actions hurt the more, and that was the root of my reluctance to forgive. I had loved you, and you had tried to kill me. It's not fair for me to say that, yet that was how it felt for the past few decades. It is wrong of me to cast any blame on you, and were I a better hobbit, I wouldn't. But I am not a better hobbit, and I held on to the pain far longer than I should've. 

I know now it was me that destroyed what good will was present between us. I created that distance, not by stealing the Arkenstone, but by running away from you. It is thick-skinned of me to ask for another chance, for some time with you, even as distant friends, but I know I will not have any other chances at it. I am old, Thorin, and it has finally started to show. If I do not try to fix this, I will regret it to my dying day. This is not something that could be settled through letters, so I am now on my way to you, and I hope you will receive me. Or at least hear me out. 

I look forward to seeing you all again.

Always yours, 

Bilbo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked this, please consider supporting me by either following me on Twitter or Tumblr under ceruleyana or by buying me a coffee on https://ko-fi.com/ceruleyana
> 
> Thanks! ❤️


	8. Thorin - Nazgul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fell visitor approches Erebor, and Bilbo must be warned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! New chapter here! 
> 
> For anyone interested, upon the release of folklore, I heard the 1 and instantly fell in love with it, so I made a playlist for this fic! You can find it here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0n8bve7Mr3BXLwZF1js2V1?si=46i1Gc-PTH6yUzEz1M9J5w
> 
> Hope you all enjoy this chapter!

Dear Bilbo, 

I write this letter as a warning to you for you are being hunted. By foul beings that come from Mordor, of all places. A being that had the shadow of death about him came to Erebor with grand promises - of Khazad-dum, of riches, of rings of old which would bring power, in exchange for you, my dear hobbit. For information that will lead them to you and your ring. 

Oh, he tried to pass it off as a mere trinket that their lord fancies, but I suspect there is more to it than that. Sauron would not bother hunting you down if it was not important. Your ring is valuable to him, and it seems he will do anything to get it. 

I worry for you, Bilbo. I worry for your safety and the safety of your fellow hobbits, especially your Frodo. If orcs were to go to the Shire, there would no doubt be blood spilt. I wish I could protect you myself, yet as king, I must always put my people first, even if it hurts me. I cannot leave Erebor, not when there are stirrings of war on the horizon. 

I have sent Gloin and his son, Gimli to journey to Rivendell, so that they may inform Lord Elrond of what is happening here in the East. I hope that he will make sure you are far away from any foul being that seeks you. 

If I had it my way, I would march with an army of dwarves all the way to the Shire, so that I can bring you to Erebor myself. Alas, I cannot. The enemy knows that you are connected to Erebor, and bringing you here would put you in more danger. 

No, I must leave your safety to the elves of Rivendell, who are nearer to you and are more able to give you aid. It goes against my being to entrust you to elves, yet you will no doubt tell me that not all elves are the same. It is not enough to soothe my worries, but it will have to do. 

That messenger came with a ring - my father's ring. I remember it on his hand from when I was young, a trinket of the past. He claimed that with the ring, Erebor will surpass even my grandfather's reign - that I had claim to it. 

I must admit that I felt the temptation drawing me in, even stronger than it had been all those years ago. I felt my mind cloud over. It was terrifying - being reduced to the same state that had you running away. It felt familiar, but more sinister. You must believe me, Bilbo. I tried, yet my composure failed me for a moment, and I took the ring and marveled at it. I feel shamed, for I made the same mistake years ago even if it had only been minutes. My mind had been enveloped by darkness once again, and I could not find a way out. 

Then he spoke your name, and I heard it above all the protests of the dwarves around me. I found myself back at the ramparts, with you looking at me with hurt and shock in your eyes. It haunts me in my dreams, and I have no doubt that my rage haunts yours. You were the light that brought me back, and it seems you have saved me from myself once again. Even so far away, you move me. Even so far away, I feel you with me.

I threw the ring back at him and told him that he will get nothing from me and from Erebor. Ever since then, Erebor has been constantly attacked by orcs. It seems we had upset Sauron with our refusal. I took satisfaction from that, I admit. 

Bilbo. My dear Bilbo. Everything is chaos. Balin has stopped writing from Khazad-dum, Sauron has returned, Erebor is besieged by orcs, and you are being hunted. I worry about many things these days, such is the life of a king, but my worry for you is what I carry to bed. 

Has news of the perilous roads reached the borders of the Shire? Have the others written to you of their worries? I pray to Mahal that you remain the same hobbit that you were when we met, only older and wiser. I hope you have not fallen prey to your ring, that you remain untouched by its sinister machinations. 

As I write this letter, I look upon the statue that I carved, wondering. What do you look like these days? Try as hard as I can, I cannot imagine a version of you that's older, that has been weathered by time. Has your hair turned silver? Have your crow's feet become more pronounced? Have your skilled hands grown frail and wrinkled? There are things that a statue cannot capture, no matter how skilled the maker is. 

It is one of my greatest regrets, to not be able to see you grow old. If the world gave me a chance - gave us a chance - I would kiss every knuckle of your fingers, savoring every moment that my lips touch your skin. I would let you and the world know that I love you, Bilbo Baggins, and my affections for you will not remain hidden in a box filled with unsent letters. 

This was meant to only warn you of the impending danger. I fear I had gone too far. I had let my emotions run wild once again, yet I cannot help it. I stare at your silver face, your expression unmoving and yet it brings me to tears. What has become of us, Bilbo? Do you feel the same as I do or are you content with what we have - merely exchanging casual letters because to not do so would be impolite? Does the past continue to haunt you? 

Perhaps it is time to leave the past behind me. To leave behind the future denied from us. It has been decades, Bilbo, and while time does not pass the same way between our races, it passes all the same. I admit that I may have lingered too long on the thought of you. Yet I feel afraid of letting you go, for the memory of you has been with me all these years. 

Not to sound frank, but you clearly have moved on from us, from me. I see it in your letters and your distance. I must endeavor to do the same, no matter how hard it would be. You will always be a dear friend, Bilbo Baggins, and we will protect you with our dying breath. And I will stop myself from wishing that you were more, for your sake and mine. 

  
Yours, 

Thorin

[The original parchment was crumpled with signs of tearing.]


	9. Bilbo - The One Ring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the Fellowship departing from Rivendell, Bilbo is filled with guilt and regrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case you want to get into the mood while reading, I made a playlist for this fic. You can find it here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0n8bve7Mr3BXLwZF1js2V1?si=46i1Gc-PTH6yUzEz1M9J5w

My dear Thorin,

So much has happened. Too much. I honestly feel like pulling my hair out of frustration, anger, and guilt. The guilt - I feel like I am drowning in it, Thorin. I have never wanted to write to you more, yet I can't. Not about anything truly important. The risk is too great, so I must keep this letter to myself. Maybe one day, I'll let you read them - this letter and the ones before it. For now, I'll continue writing with you in mind.

I'm sure Gloin will tell you what had occurred here in Rivendell. The council. The fellowship. The ring.

That ring. The One Ring. To think that I, of all the beings of Middle Earth, found it. It's ridiculous. It just turned me invisible, that's all. How could I have known? Was there something that I missed? A clue to its sinister nature? I find myself wracking my memories for any and found none, yet I cannot help but feel the guilt sink into my skin.

If I had told Gandalf when he asked. If I hadn't clung to that wretched ring, would things have been different? They would have, most certainly. Frodo wouldn't have to carry this burden that I left on his shoulders.

It should have been me, Thorin. Not Frodo. Not my Frodo. I found the ring, I should have been the one to destroy it. I waited too damn long, and now I no longer have the strength to do it. And so it has passed to Frodo. What a rotten thing to pass to my heir, a curse. And I am to blame for it.

I don't know what to do, Thorin. How can I just sit here while Frodo risks his life because of my actions? These old bones won't let me do anything otherwise. I am old, Thorin, yet my greatest fear has come to life - that I might witness the death of my dear nephew and be able to do nothing. He does not deserve this. He is a quiet soul. I fear that even if he does survive, this quest will change him permanently.

Even when Sauron was barely a threat, I had already felt the weight of the ring. I felt it first in Mirkwood, when the spiders attacked us. It had fallen from my grasp, and a spider tried to take it. I was seized by a jealousy so great that I had violently killed the creature that tried to take it from me. You know I am not a violent person. Whatever fighting I did in the quest was out of necessity, yet in this instance, I reveled in it. It frightened me, yet I could not let it go.

It has changed me, I know that for a fact. I had tried to attack Gandalf for merely trying to convince me to let it go, and I had tried to attack Frodo just at the sight of it. Even as the distance between me and the ring grows, I still feel its claws grasping my heart. I still feel the want, the need to possess it. I fear that now Sauron's presence is more felt, the ring will try to corrupt Frodo's heart like it did mine. It is a chilling thought.

I can confide in no one. I feel as though everyone is judging me and finding me lacking. I suppose they're right in thinking so. I should've done something. I should've been better. It wouldn't have come down to this had I just known better. But, no. I know I shouldn't dwell on it. What's done is done, and no matter how many what ifs I ponder, Frodo will still have to carry the ring all the way to Mordor. I can't undo this, no matter how much I want to.

I gave him Sting, you know. You lot may call it a letter opener, but it has its uses. The Company was right, I should've given Frodo lessons on how to use a sword. He is on a perilous road, and would no doubt have to use it. May it serve him well.

I gave him the shirt that you gave me - the mithril. Gloin told me what it had meant, when we talked. You are impossible, you know that? That you would give me something so valuable. That you were able to part with it while in the throes of dragonsickness. I don't know what to think. Only that you confuse me to my core, and I want nothing more than to see you again, so I can yell at you about it. And maybe hold you tight while doing so.

I would like to thank you, for indirectly giving Frodo protection. If all else fails, it should protect him from harm. I can only hope that it will be enough.

Gloin told the tale of the Nazgul during the council, and how you rejected its offer. Maybe it is better that I never made it to Erebor, for I feel nothing would have made me leave, even the threat of Sauron looming over me. I would've put Erebor in danger just by being there, but I am a selfish hobbit, Thorin. Every part of me longs for Erebor, for the Company, for you. I cannot help it.

Gloin was rightfully mad when I told him of my journey. I should've told you all, he said. I really should have, but part of me still felt afraid. Afraid of being rejected by the dwarves who are dear to my heart. It is no excuse. He gave me a good telling off that echoed through the halls, and I deserved it. I have to admit that I got a little teary-eyed as I listened to Gloin talk about how you all would have welcomed me with open arms. It's the old age, you see. Makes me too emotional.

I worry for you, Thorin. Gloin said that Erebor is under attack. I know you are a fierce warrior. I have seen you fight, yet I can't help but worry still. You had better not perish during this war, Thorin Oakenshield. I have yet to see you since the quest, and I find that I must. You must live through this, because we are not finished yet. I did say I was selfish, and my desire for you to live is fueled by it. I feel your absence everyday, but my heart can rest knowing that you are still here in this world, safe within Erebor's halls. For you to die because of my mistakes, it is too much for me, I think.

I wish I could talk to you in person. The letters, both sent and unsent, aren't enough. Would never be enough. I wish my body hadn't failed me at the last moment. Maybe I should've told you of my journey to Erebor, so that we could've met at Mirkwood. I was a fool once again, and now, we remain worlds apart.

It is nighttime as I write this letter, and the Fellowship has departed. I look up at the stars, and wonder if you're looking up as well. It seems the only thing we are destined to share is the same night sky, and it is no one's fault but my own.

Sometimes, I wonder what life would have been like if I had stayed. If I hadn't run away like I did, and instead faced you despite the hurt. Would we have reconciled? Would we be happy? I still find myself not regretting leaving, for it is in the Shire I found the peace that I needed to forgive and to heal. I only wished that I had thought to return sooner. That I hadn't been afraid to do so. Maybe Frodo wouldn't be caught up in this mess if I had. Maybe I wouldn't be here in Rivendell, yearning for your company.

Oh, like I mentioned in the letter that I sent with Gloin, I finished my book. It is a small flickering light surrounded by darkness, but it is a light all the same. It's about the quest. About us. I finally had the strength to recount all that had happened, the good and the bad, and I find that I could do so with a smile. Allow me to take a bit of pride in that, for I can truly say that I am at peace with everything that had happened.

I hope that after all these years, you have found the same peace. Keep safe.

Always yours,

Bilbo


	10. Thorin - A War Looming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gloin returns to Erebor with news. Thorin prepares for war.

Bilbo,

You traveled to the East. To Erebor. Or at least you tried to.

Gloin told me upon his arrival, and I must have stood there in shock for some time. To know that you were so close without me knowing, that in a week's worth of travel, I could have seen your face once more. It breaks my heart, Bilbo.

I must admit that I stormed Thranduil's halls, demanding an explanation for his secrecy. He deliberately hid your arrival from us. There may have been unpleasant words exchanged, yet none could fix what was already done. You had asked Thranduil to say nothing, and he merely obliged. For all my disdain towards him, I cannot begrudge him for simply keeping his word, though it pains me to do so.

Why did you not tell us that you were coming? Gloin told me that you did not want to be a bother. How could you be? Your mere presence is a blessing in my eyes, one that I have been deprived of for so long. Did I frighten you? Were you afraid that I would somehow shun you? Is that why you hold back in your letters? Now that I know that you tried to come to us, I have been faced by the realization that you do not detest us, detest me.

Perhaps my hesitance and yours have a common thread. We circle each other, waiting for a sign. For all our waiting, we have wasted so much time. As I write this letter, things seem clearer. I wish I had the courage to ask you plainly how you felt instead of writing platitudes. Maybe things would have been different between us.

Or maybe the thought of you going East has given me too much hope, and I am seeing things that are not there. I will not be able to find out, since sending you a letter during these dark times would be foolish. You are still being hunted, after all.

Gloin had told me about the council and the ring. I cannot help but wonder how you are faring at this very moment. I can only imagine the worry and guilt that is present in your mind. Despite being apart for so long, I find it easy to say that I know you, Bilbo Baggins. Well enough to know that you will keep dwelling on regrets not just because Frodo now has the ring, but also because your heart is kind.

I wish I could tell you that no blame lies in you. I wish I could share the burden that you bear for you do not deserve to be drowned by the thought of what you could have done. I am left with nothing to do but only to wish you well from far away. I cannot even write to you. We wasted so much ink between the two of us, and now I cannot spend any when it matters the most.

I worry that the ring had affected you after possessing it for many years. Gloin said that you remain the same hobbit for the most part despite your aged looks, but I cannot help but wonder. For all your good manners, you seem to have as many walls as I do. I wonder if it is all a guise, to not worry anyone. You complain about every single little thing, yet when it matters, you hardly say a word. I remember you hiding your wounds from us after Azog had attacked, saying that they were not grave enough to worry about. Are you doing the same thing you did back then?

Even if I am far away, I wish you could confide in someone, Bilbo. One thing I have learned from all that I have lived through is that it does no one well to hide your wounds, leaving them to fester.

A war is coming for all the free people of Middle Earth. With Sauron gaining strength, there will be bloodshed before we all see the light at the end. I can do nothing but trust Rivendell's defenses to keep you safe.

The orc attacks have gotten more and more frequent. There have also been attacks from Men of the East. It is a difficult task, to keep Erebor defended and keep up morale, yet it must be done.

We must survive this, Bilbo. You must hold on to your life as must I. I cannot forgive myself if this is how we end, at the hands of a tyrant, worlds apart from each other.

I cannot help but feel afraid. I am no longer young, Bilbo, and the crown is a heavy burden. I have fought many battles and survived, but Sauron is no mere orc. I fear for my life as well as for those that I hold dear. I fear for Erebor and my people.

I have never been afraid of death before. When Smaug came, in Khazad-dum, in Ravenhill - death had been hovering over me for so many years that it barely fazed me. Thinking on it, what scares me is not death itself but the thought of never seeing you again.

Despite my worries, I find strength in Fili's steady smile, in Kili's laugh, in Dis' teasing, and in your previous letters. I hope it will be enough to weather the incoming storm.

Part of me continues to hope that one day when all is well, our paths will cross again. I do not ask forgiveness, Bilbo, for it is too late for that. I only ask that you wait for me, so that I may see you again. I will be content even if you cast me away, for the sight of you is enough to give me peace.

Yours,

Thorin


	11. Bilbo - After the War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sauron is defeated, yet Bilbo still worries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't updated this for the longest time, I'm so sorry! With the writing workshop that I enrolled in, and online classes, my schedule has been pretty packed this last couple of months.
> 
> If you're still reading this, hope you enjoy this short chapter!

My dear Thorin,

It has been years since I have received word from you. I don't fault you for it. The war has kept me up most nights, though my part in it is already over. I cannot imagine what it must have been like for you, with Erebor on your shoulders.

I do hope that you would forgive my handwriting, as my hands tend to not stay still these days. Old age has thoroughly devoured my body. My vision isn't quite the same as it once was, as is my memory. With that, I also apologize if this letter seems disjointed at times. I have given up any semblance of order in my mind and am resigned to just say, or in this case, write, what comes to mind.

Rivendell is still these days. You would think the end of the war would bring life back in this wonderous (Yes, yes, I know you don't find it as such, but do indulge me, if you please.) place, yet the halls are eerily quiet, and the leaves fall from the towering trees that surround it. I suppose a foolish part of me wished that upon Sauron's defeat, the elves would remain here in Middle Earth, yet one by one, they sail towards the West. Seeing them all leave feels so final, as though we have come to the end of something... My words fail me, but I do hope you understand what I mean.

Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin had recently arrived here. They had travelled with Elrond from Gondor. I cannot properly describe the whirlwind of emotions that I felt when I saw Frodo again, alive and smiling. As I hugged him, I was afraid to let go, thinking that it was my fool mind playing tricks on me once again, but no. Even as we pulled back, he was still there and I couldn't help but shed a tear or two. I do not cry easily, as you know, but I'll make one exception for my dear Frodo's safety.

Our roles had reversed, you know. These four hobbits, who used to be my young audience as I weaved the story of our journey, weaved their own tales of what they had gone through. I listened with both awe and worry as they told me their own adventures which, in a way, made my own pale in comparison. They had grown up into such brave and wonderful gentlehobbits, though gentle could barely be used to describe them these days. 

I still worry about Frodo sometimes. There are times when he thinks I'm not looking, and I would glimpse a shadow in his eyes. They look haunted with grief and sorrow. As much as I had wished that he would go through this journey unscathed, it is not so. He has not only been scarred physically, but emotionally as well. I suppose a part of me always knew that it would happen. I, of all people, know that the Ring leaves a mark in you. It is something that does not go away easily, if at all. It would seem that it has corrupted us both albeit in different ways, and it would seem that the Ring would be added to the mountain of regrets that I've accumulated throughout the years. 

I wish... I suppose there is no use wishing to undo things that have already come to pass. All I can do is help him carry the burden that he has with what little time I have left in this world. I do not know how I would be able to do such a thing, but I will try for his sake.

I do hope that you are well, Thorin. I worry about you just as much as I worry about Frodo. It has been months since the war has ended, yet I have not received word from you or any of the Company. Has something happened? Were you under attack? Is Erebor safe?

~~Or perhaps my lack of nerve years ago has reached the final straw-~~

No, I mustn't think that. You all have made it clear that you all care about me. I must remember that. I am prepared to forget many things, but I mustn't forget that. 

I do hope you are all safe from harm, and to hear from all of you again. My days have grown dull from the lack of letters from all of you. I wish I could get my pack and finish what I had started on my 111th birthday, but I cannot even hold my pen properly these days. Letters would have to suffice, much to my dismay.

  
Yours,

Bilbo

[This letter, like the others, was unsent. Upon compiling the letters, this particular letter was found by Frodo Baggins years later after it was written, underneath a pile of books in Bilbo Baggins' study in Rivendell.]


End file.
